


It was just how you looked in the light

by kopperblaze



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hippogriffs to the rescue, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: Fill for this prompt from the Kink Meme:"Post-movie search parties go out to find the real Graves. Somehow Newt ends up being the one to find him-- badly tortured, bleeding, starving, just barely hanging on to life-- and because of Reasons™ they can't apparate to a hospital and help can't apparate to them.So Newt has to sit and comfort/reassure Graves while help arrives the no-maj way.Bonus points for Newt cradling Graves in his arms and maybe even petting his hair a bit (hey, it helps calm some injured creatures, so it should work on humans, right?)."





	1. Percival

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt caught my attention because, well, I'm a sucker for HURT/comfort and my writing muses were awoken from their deep, deep sleep. I'm still rather rusty but I enjoyed getting back in the swing of things with this :) 
> 
> I'll try and get the second chapter - Newt's POV - up within the next few days

"M-Mister Graves?" 

At first Percival thinks he imagined the hesitant whisper of a voice, dismissing it as yet another fevered creation of his imagination. He's been hearing a lot of voices lately. Seraphina asking him what in the name of Merlin he thinks he's doing. 

His father, scolding him with the firm gentleness of Percival's youth. "You're better than this, son." 

His sister laughing and asking him to go flying with her. "Papa wont allow me to go by myself." 

And in his most desperate moments his mother telling him that "all will be well, darling. I'm here now." In these moments between pain and darkness Percival finds little snatches of peace, his mother's perfume flooding his senses with the comforting scent of lilacs that even this far into manhood still reminds him of home. In moments of confusion, his mind ready to break, he can feel her hand stroking his hair. "All will be well, darling boy. You stay strong for me." 

So yes, Percival is used to the voices by now, grateful for their comfort in the maddening silence of his prison. But he can’t place this new voice and it irks him. 

"Can you hear me, Mister Graves?" 

It's a British accent, or at least Percival thinks so, accompanied by a fluttering touch to his throat. Percival twists away, adrenaline flooding his body and pulling him away from the comforting and warm place in his mind. With awareness comes pain and despite his best efforts he can't hold back a broken moan as his eyes flutter open. 

There is a light to his left, dim and barely illuminating the figure bowed over Percival. His breath stutters. 

"Oh, oh that's good. You had me really worried there for a moment," the man says, his features looking ghostly in the half light. He doesn't look like one of Grindelwald's henchmen. They all have a darkness in their eyes, a wicked twist to their mouths. 

Percival swallows and tries to remember how to form words. He only manages a weak moan. 

"Just a moment." 

The light moves as the man mumbles something and then there's a hand supporting Percival's head, raising it up a little as a glass is pressed to his lips. 

"It's just water, I swear." 

And in the end, even if it wasn't, what does he have to lose? Percival opens his lips, not caring that water dribbles all over his chin and onto his chest as he struggles to swallow. The cold water running down his raw throat makes Percival want to weep with relief. After a few sips the stranger takes the glass away and although he's still thirsty the little bit helped to wash away a few of the cobwebs on Percival's mind. 

"I'm sorry I didn't bring any potions. We weren't sure if you'd be here and it all happened kind of quickly, but I sent Bess back to the others. They should be here in a little while and they'll bring supplies." The man rambles, keeping his hold on Percival's neck. 

"Who...What?" Percival finally managed to get out. It feels like his lips crack and bleed even more from the movement. 

“My apologies, how impolite. My name is Newt Scamander." The man supplies with a tiny, crooked smile. "Grindelwald has been revealed and is in custody. We've been looking for you for days now. Mister Grindelwald took precautions to keep your occupation very well hidden. It's not possible to apparate here unless you're, well, him." 

Percival's frowns before nodding. "Then how?"

"I flew here."

Percival raises his eyebrows. 

"On Bess. She's a hippogriff."

Percival stares for a moment before his head rolls back and he starts laughing. This is it. He’s finally cracked. A strange British man called Newt coming to his rescue on the back of a hippogriff. In a way Percival is impressed by the things his mind comes up with. Maybe insanity will be amusing after all. 

“Uhm.” 

When Percival recovers from his laughing fit (which wasn’t a good idea, his body aflame with pain once more) Newt is still sitting there, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I-I suppose it might seem strange, but hippogriffs are really quite useful, you see,” he says, shifting position and helping Percival when he attempts to sit up a little more. Coming to rest half against Newt’s chest Percival is acutely aware of the state he’s in. Newt smells clean, like soap and wind, a fresh breeze in the stale air Percival’s been breathing for…however long he’s been stuck in here. His own skin is gritty with grime, the tatters of his clothes plastered to him with sweat and crusted blood. His hair falls in greasy strands around his ears and the beard still feels foreign and itchy on his skin. He spares a moment wistfully think about the man he used to be, always put together and never allowing anyone to see behind the perfectly cultivated facade. It’s a fleeting thought. That man is gone and right now Percival can’t allow himself to moan for him. 

“So…” he licks his lips again, swallows, “you flew here on a hippogriff. What now?” 

“Now we wait for help,” Newt answers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re too weak for me to fly you back on Bess, but I sent Tina a message, so they should be on their way here on a Muggle, uh, a No-Maj boat.” 

“Goldstein?” Something flutters in Percival’s chest, a feeling he had given up on long ago - hope. Maybe he isn’t hallucinating after all. 

The rise and fall of Newt’s chest lulls Percival back towards the darkness, everything around him becoming blurry once more. 

“Mr. Graves? I’d ask you to please stay awake.” One of Newt’s arms is wrapped around Percival’s middle, keeping him sitting upright and leaning back against Newt. The other hand is now ever so slightly patting Percival’s cheek, snapping him back. He groans and shifts, wincing at the sharp pain it sends up his spine. Percival is almost certain at this point that there isn’t a single part of him that doesn’t hurt. Grindelwald was creative and varied in his punishments, using knives on Percival almost as much as curses. He’s pretty sure some of the cuts have become infected. 

“It won’t be too much longer I’m sure.” Newt’s hand moves up now, stroking through Percival’s hair. Despite his best efforts a high-pitch whine fights its way up Percival’s throat. It’s just…it’s been so long since somebody touched him without inflicting pain. He’s held on until now, trying to not show any weakness, to not give that bastard the satisfaction. But with the possibility of his torture being over, his shaky walls finally crumble. His throat constricts and he sniffs, but there’s no use. Hot tears spill from his eyes, followed closely by a sob that shakes his entire body. Percival is mortified, but now that the dams broken he can’t stop. He cries for all that he’s lost, for the life he won’t be able to return to. No matter how strong, he won’t come out of this unchanged. He cries because he’s in pain, has been in pain and starving for so long, and because he’s scared that he’ll never be able to function properly again, his body nothing more than a broken shell. He cries thinking about his family and the pain he must’ve caused them. He cries because he feels like he’s lost everything he ever had, including his self-worth. 

Newt doesn’t say anything, only tightens his grip a little bit. He continues to stroke Percival’s hair and hums softly under his breath. 

Once Percival regains a little bit of control over his body Newt makes him drink a few more sips. 

“You’re a very brave man,” he murmurs, taking Percival’s hand and squeezing gently. Percival wants to protest but the words get stuck in his throat. He wants…he wants so much to still be worth something. 

“Just stay awake, all right?” 

Percival manages to nod and Newt starts telling him about hippogriffs. Having lost all feeling for time it could be minutes or hours later that Newt’s steady narration is interrupted by the sound of approaching voices, the echo of boots running over stone. There’s a burst of light and Newt’s voice in his ear. “It’s all right. They’re here now. You’re safe.”  
~  
Years later when people ask Percival how he met Newt, Newt will blush and duck his head as Percival laughs and says that Newt appeared out of nowhere as his knight on a hippogriff.


	2. Newt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm completely blown away by the feedback for the first chapter. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! It feels wonderful to be writing again and even better to know that people enjoy it :) As promised, the second chapter. This time from Newt's perspective. 
> 
> All of you have a happy New Year <3 I'll be back next year with another Percival/Newt story (also inspired by a comment on the kinkmeme....damnit I shouldn't be allowed on there) in which Newt is on the receiving end of the HURT. 
> 
> Also: not beta-ed and English isn't my native language /o\

It’s rare that Newt gets to fly on Bess - there’s never enough time and if he finds a spare moment the circumstances often don’t allow him to coax her out of the suitcase and take to the skies. So when he does get to fly, usually Newt feels free and joyful, all worries left behind on the ground. 

All he feels now is his anxiety spiking as Bess pushes off the ground, the cold whip of air against his face doing nothing to clear his racing thoughts. Newt feels heavy, like all his worry has turned into a ball of lead in his stomach. 

They don’t know if Auror Graves really is on that island, but it’s the best lead they’ve had ever since Grindelwald was arrested. The heavy wards around the small patch of land - and the fact that it isn’t documented on any map - seem to confirm Tina’s theory. 

Newt still isn’t entirely sure why he volunteered to go, and he’s even less sure why Tina and Auror Abernathy agreed to it. Sure, it makes more sense to fly to the island and scope it out, Bess a quicker means of a gataway than a muggle boat, but Newt is hardly _qualified_! He’s a magizoologist. He’s very adept at rescuing beasts and nursing them back to health, but he isn’t very experienced when it comes to…rescuing people. 

Closing his eyes and exhaling shakily Newt feels very small, wishing his brother was here with him. Theseus would know what to do. Theseus is good with people, good at rescuing them. He’s always been better at social interactions, to the point where people thought Newt couldn’t speak at the age of six because his older brother always answered for him. 

“But Theseus isn’t here,” Newt reminds himself, his voice barely reaching his own ears before it’s whipped away by the wind. 

It isn’t long until a speck of land appears in the distance, barely big enough to hold a stone house hidden away between trees. It speaks of Grindelwald’s skill, his sheer power that he created something like this. 

“Just a moment, Bess.” Newt casts a few quick detection charms. Anti-apparation wards, notice-me-nots, everything that was to be expected. None of them should hinder them from landing - hopefully. 

Newt feels queasy once they touch ground and slowly slides from Bess’ back. There’s no telling what kind of traps Grindelwald has hidden on the island. Newt can only hope that Grindelwald never expected anyone to find this place. 

He can feel his heart hammering and his pulse beating forcefully as he makes his way forward, casting spells as he goes. In the end Newt isn’t sure if it takes him minutes or hours to discover the small cellar and the lifeless body within it. He freezes in the doorway, unable to breathe for a second. What…what if it really is that? A…a body? Newt has been confronted with death before, yes, but he’s never been one to discover a human…a…a corpse. 

Forcing himself to inhale (and oh, there’s a horrible smell to the room. It’s a good thing Newt’s not squeamish about odours) Newt finally moves, turning around, sprinting up the stairs and out of the house. He sends Bess back with a message for Tina and her team, asking her to bring a medic along, and as the hippogriff kicks off Newt turns back to the building and squares his shoulders. 

He’s prepared the second time around, but it doesn’t stop his hands from shaking as he approaches the body, casting a weak Lumos as not to startle them should they wake up. 

On first glance the man hardly bears a resemblance to the Percival Graves Newt has met. His face is gaunt, more like a skull with the deep hollows of cheeks and eyes. Instead of carefully styled hair there’s shaggy, knotted mess and a beard that would probably be impressive if it had been taken care of at all. Beneath that the curve of a mouth, the straight line of the man’s nose are unmistakeable though. 

“M-Mister Graves?” Newt asks awkwardly as he sits down in front of the man, not sure if he’s allowed to touch. He’s not sure if the man is breathing so he reaches out anyway, checking his neck for a pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. A second later the man moans and Newt’s heart jumps. Still alive, still alive, he’s still alive. All will be fine, he only needs to remain calm. 

"Can you hear me, Mister Graves?" 

Dark eyes settle on him, unfocused and glassy. Newt manages to hold the gaze for a second before looking away. This Mr. Graves isn’t impeccably dressed in expensive suits. His shirt hangs on him in tatters, stained and grey. There’s far too much red on it for Newt’s liking. 

Mr. Graves shifts slightly. 

"Oh, oh that's good. You had me really worried there for a moment. Just a moment.” Newt grabs his wand and conjures a glass of water. This at least he’s familiar with. He’s dealt with enough injured beasts and surely humans can’t be that different in their handling. 

Reaching out he helps Mr. Graves to support his head, holding the glass of water to his lips with the other hand. At first the man’s lips remain firmly pressed together. 

“It’s just water, I swear” Newt says, relieved when the man drinks a few sips. He briefly explains the situation though he’s aware that he’s rambling and confusing poor Mr. Graves even more. It’s just…he always rambles when he’s nervous. The man’s breath rattles in his chest and he seems unable to move even a muscle without immense pain. The stench of blood and infection makes Newt’s nose itch. He tries to distract himself and stay calm (staying calm will ultimately calm the beast you’re dealing with. Or in this case, the human) and does his best to answer the rasping questions, startled at the sound of Mr. Graves’ laughter. Well, he supposes people are not used to the idea of flying on hippogriffs. It’s ridiculous, any witch or wizard is happy enough to fly around on a broomstick, but flying on a hippogriff is considered strange. 

Once Mr. Graves’ laughter trails off into weak coughs Newt manoeuvres around and settles on the ground behind him, helping him to lean against Newt’s chest. His shoulders are still broad, but Newt’s arm is able to wrap around his waist far too easily. Men like Mr. Graves aren’t supposed to be this thin. 

Newt tells Mr. Graves about Tina, on her way with the beast team possible no doubt, and the man calms down. Too much for Newt’s liking, his breathing becoming so shallow it’s barely detectable. 

“Mr. Graves? I’d ask you to please stay awake.”

Mr. Graves startles a little, moaning as he adjusts his position. Newt can feel the irregular, frantic heartbeat when he moves his hand to the man’s chest. There’s a slight trembling that just won’t stop and Newt can’t help but wonder what Mr. Graves has endured. How often did he have to suffer through the Cruciatus curse? Newt has listened to enough of Theseus’ tales to know that the pain isn’t all there is to the Unforgiveable. Permanent nerve damage, spasms, physical and sometimes even cognitive issues. The destructive powers of the curse reach far beyond inflicting pain. Newt only hopes that Mr. Graves won’t have to deal with any of those long-term consequences. He has suffered more than enough. 

As the trembling increases Newt reaches up and runs a hand through the messy strands of Mr. Graves’ hair, humming gently. For a second it seems to work, but then the trembling increases tenfold, followed by a gasp and a shudder. All of a sudden Mr. Graves is crying in such a desperate manner that it makes Newt’s own heart ache and his eyes burn. While he himself has been known to cry on occasion (sadness but also anger and happiness prompting tears) Newt is pretty sure that Mr. Graves is not the crying sort. It makes it all the sadder and Newt tightens his arm a little, pulling the shaking body closer and keeping up his rhythmic movement and humming. It’s beyond his ability to imagine what Mr. Graves has lived through, how he must feel in this moment. Newt has felt weak plenty of times, has grown up knowing that he would never be strong like his brother, but Mr. Graves has probably never felt weak and lost in his life. In all his moments of sadness Newt had his brother, hugging him and telling him that “you’re the best little brother in the world and I’m proud of you! You should never be ashamed about feeling how you feel, Newt!” So maybe right now Mr. Graves needs somebody to reassure him. 

“You’re a very brave man,” Newt says, not very good with words and flowery phrases but saying it as he sees it. He doesn’t know anyone - except for Theseus of course - who would’ve made it through this ordeal. 

It’s just as well that Mr. Graves slowly calms down because a few minutes later Newt can hear voices and approaching footsteps. No matter his state, he’s got a feeling that Mr. Graves wouldn’t appreciate crying in front of his rescuers. 

~  
Once Mr. Graves - “Please, call me Percival” - has recovered physically Newt takes him to see Bess. He won’t suffer the indignation of Percival joking that “the hippogriff thing” was a fever dream. It’s beautiful to see first the disbelief and then the joy on Percival’s face as Bess responds to his bow and more or less forces him to mount her (and oh, Newt wishes he had a camera. The image of Bess nipping at Percival’s legs, trying to push her head between them in an impatient attempt to get him up on her back, is precious). Percival’s laughter as she takes to the sky is entirely worth the lecture about hippogriffs in central park and “Do you know how many No-Maj’s had to be obliviated, Mr. Scamander? Do you?” from Picquery. 

For years to come Percy will answer people’s questions about them meeting with “Newt is my shining knight on a hippogriff”. Theseus, the traitorous bastard, takes it as incentive to change the lyrics of Celestina Warbeck’s song “On the Wings of Love” to “On the Wings of a Hippogriff.” The first time he sings it Newt’s face is an unflattering shade of red for hours. He hopes never to hear that travesty again. He should’ve known that Percy loves it. After a few too many firewhiskey’s Theseus and him will break into a very heartfelt and very off-key rendition of it for years to come.

Eventually Newt can’t even remember the original lyrics, mumbling Theseus’ version instead as the song plays on his mother’s wireless in the kitchen. 

He finds that he doesn’t mind at all.


End file.
